If They Series If Katniss SH TRIGGER WARNING
by ThaliaGrace19
Summary: What if Katniss Everdeen struggled with SH? Mature content,VERY VERY HIGH TRIGGER WARNING. Read at your own risk.
1. Chapter 1

_If they_...Series

*If Katniss Everdeen Self-Harmed*

A story with a look into Katniss Everdeen's life had she self-harmed

******NOTE: VERY VERY HIGH TRIGGER WARNING. I will detail the physical, mental, emotional etc. aspects of self-harm in many ways, shapes and forms. Please do not read if you are prone to self-harm due to triggers. Please do not read if you are just curious and want to self-harm, please don't even start. Read at your own risk, recommended for adults only. I take no responsiblity for what you do with what I write. I do not recommend, suggest, or justify self-harm though I do it myself. It is an addiction not a glorious thing. But mayeb if you have toruble with this too this might help you, though I can''t say that for sure. It is a means of expression myself, nothing more, ntohing less.******

Chapter One: The Night Before the Reaping

I stare down at the blade in my hand, weighing it though I have no need to; I've used it tons of times before. I swallow, and glance one last time to make sure Prim and my mother are asleep. It's the night before the reaping- actually, it's past midnight, so technically today _is_ the reaping. A trickle of cold sweat slips down my back and I shiver. I hate today, I always have. My best friend, Gale, has always been in danger of today, as long as I've known him. This will be he the fifth year that I myself am in danger. But none of this scares me as much as the fact hat this is the first year that my little sister, Ptrim, is elegible for the reaping.

"Curse twelfth birthdays." I mumbled- a bit too loudly, because Prim stirred. I thrust the knife under the bed until I was sure she was asleep, then I retrieved it, and, sitting indian-style, I swallowed again and gently lowered the knife so that the tip was barely touching my inner wrist. I slowly and very gently dug the top in a little deeper, just until the knife caught some skin and left a scratching trail as I dug it across my arm. I winced, but the burn spread through my body, tingling somewhere deep in my stomache, and I smile faintly. Prim stirs and my heart races as I store the knife back under my bed, my self-harm knife, not my hunting knife. I separate them to keep it clean. I am very clean about what I do. Now I slip outside and carefully clean my cut, wiping away the slight traces of blood. I gentyly bandage the spot, sovering my arms up with my long sleeves, before slipping into bed as the last traces of adrenaline wash away, leaving me sleepy and content, and very relaxed. I close my eyes and surrender myself to sleep, not thinking about what the morning brings for the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**SORRY! I didn't mean for the 'please to do not read this' to get into this doc, it was meant for another purpose and I didn't manage to edit it out before posting, oops.**

I wake up and reach my hand over for Prim, but the bed is cold; she has moved in with my mother. They look peaceful there, their cheeks pressed together. Prim is absolutely beautiful, in her elfish, childlike way. My mother is worn and aging, but I can just barely make out hints of her lost beauty around her eyes when she smiles. I feel something churning in my stomach and I bite back anger. I do not want to know my mother used to be beautiful. To me she is not a beautiful person at all. If she was a supermodel she would not be beautiful. She abandoned me, and worse, she abandoned Prim. I will never see her as beautiful.

I slip out of bed, slip into my hunting clothes, and make my way out to the Meadow, where I slip under the fence and out of District twelve. A few paces away, and my breath comes freely again. I am going to get to see Gale, handsome, friendly, loving Gale. MY heart skips a beat as I tell myself, try to convince myself, that he is just a friend. But I cannot convince myself that we do not at least have very deep, friend-type feelings for each other. If not even a bit more than that. I slip to our spot, the rock where we can sit together, and I see him already there. He has bread, and I have a cheese Prim made us, and we pick berries. I imagine our stomach's bursting from good Capitol food- I'm sure they are very fat there, never hungry ever while we starve and wither away in the districts- and I enjoy the flavors melding, glad to be with Gale, glad for the bakery bread we share, trying not to think of someone I would much rather just forget.

When we finish, Gale looks at me funny, as though noticing me for the first time.

"There's blood on your sleeve." he says bluntly.

I cringe. I do not want to go through this, to do this with him, right now. I let my eyes creep down to the offending splotch of blood on my shirtsleeve, and sigh. "Yes, so...I did it again last night."

Gale appraises me with his eyes. "Why?"

I get mad. It's not in my nature to be calm when people ruffle my feathers, and I am especially delicate on this subject; say one thing to cross me about my 'issue' as I anonymously refer to it in my head, and I'm liable to blow up in your face. "Damn you, Gale! It's none of your business."

Gale looks at me sadly, his grey Seam eyes misting a bit. "I'm sorry, Katniss, I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Well, don't." I cross my arms, trying not to let his sympathy affect me. I need to be strong, I can't lean entirely on anyone, not even Gale, I have to do this by myself. It's my problem, not his.

"Suit yourself." Now I've offended him. I sigh again, and come over to pick up his large, warm hand between my two thin ones.

"Look, sorry Gale, but...it's hard for me, you know? I've never really been a very good, well, people-person."

"You get cranky." Gale said, in a way that I couldn't quite tell if he was teasing or not. I punched him in the arm for good measure. He smiled up at me, and motioned for me to sit back down beside him. I did. We just sat there, no arms around each other or anything, basking in our friendship, and trying hard not to think about the Reaping today.

But I couldn't help glancing at the blood splotch a couple more times, and wishing Gale hadn't spotted it.


	3. Chapter 3

When I finally get home, my mom has a tubful of water for me. I try to ignore her, try not to be too angry at her for being so nice to me, trying to win my love it seems, after she has been a jerk all of these years. I try to remember that she is my mother and I shouldn't be so hard on her, that she was hurt very deeply when my father died, but there is a deep seed of bitterness choking out any affection for her that is buried very deep in my heart. I make her and Prim leave before I slip out of my pants, shirt, and undergarments, not wanting them to discover my secret. I have always been a rather private person so this arouses no suspicion. I hardly even have to ask them to leave anymore, they just do.

I settle into the warm water, gently easing in my scratched-up arm last, after I slip the bandage from it and drop the blood-stained piece of cloth to the floor. As I sit there, knees buckled up to fit in the little metal tub, I examine my body, every inch of it. I want to know if I am a beautiful person, as my mother once was. I start at my toes; they are a bit oddly-shaped, but my feet above them are long and lean. My legs, my hairy legs- I chuckle at the thought of Capitol girls shaving theirs- hardly anyone in the Seam bothers with novelties like that- and rub my hands over the soft, fuzzy down. I quickly brush over my private areas, not wanting to dwell on the one part of my body and life that confuses me the most. My stomach has a bit of paunch, though I am definitely not over-fed, and I run my hands over the smooth skin, then up my waist and to my wet breasts. My arms are sleek, my neck long...I know what my face looks like, pretty enough, but when I examine it in the mirror, the sadness in my eyes haunts even myself. I quickly put it away, and try to smile. I am happy with my body, but not with the soul inside of it. I curl my arms around my bare knees, wishing I could get out of the bath right now, but I still have my hair to wash. I hurry with it, then slip into a towel, dry my body off before I slip into the dress and allow my mother and prim in. I haven't dared look at my scarred arm, haven't asked myself how I feel about those marks, not wanting to make my gut twist with mixed emotions.

Prim buttons up the back of my dress and I allow my mother to towel-dry my still-damp hair a bit more and style it. I actually let myself enjoy it a little bit, the feel of someone doing your hair; it always feels nice to me. Comforting somehow. Prim looks like a cute little duck. I feel sick thinking about the reaping, and wish I could use my knife one last time before we go, but I don't have a chance.

Like it or not, it's Reaping time.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: I Volunteer as Tribute

I don't even want to talk about how Prim being reaped makes me feel. I could spend an hour dwelling on my feelings, but that would hurt far too much. All I know is I'm scared. I volunteered for my sister Prim and now, that's not even what I'm scared about. Am I scared for her and even for my mom? Yes. Am I scared for myself? Yes. But at the moment? I am only afraid that I will have no way to get another knife until the arena itself gets here in its full wretchedness, and by then, I will have had to suffer the anguish of my feelings without its aid for far too long for my comfort.

I force myself to take deep, slow breaths and not think about it. Already my head feels light and I don't want to hyperventilate.

I am settled into a room with plush velvet couches the color of blood; my morbid mind cannot stop making the connections between my past, my present, and my future. How I've cut, how I will die, how red the couch is right now. I sit on it, knees tucked in, arms around them, trying to make myself into as small a figure as humanly possible, which isn't hard as tiny as I am.

I have visitors: my mother and Prim. I hate my mother right now, hate her for not protecting me from this, this one thing. She never protects me; nobody does. I have to protect myself, AND others. Even her. And of course, Prim, but I love Prim so much I don't care, I would do anything for her. Even this.

I try to stay strong, try to calmly say goodbye, give instructions, but my heart aches within me. Then it's goodbye to Peeta's father, and he gives me cookies: I feel as though a knife is going through my chest, slaughtering me with my own guilt- and then Madge comes in, and all is saved.

See, tributes get to bring a token into the arena, something to stand for them or their district, usually something to wear somewhere on their person. Madge has brought me a pin with a Mockingjay on it, a pin that has a sharp point, meant to lock it in place on your clothing, but I have another purpose for it...'

"Thank you, Madge." I say, tears seeping into my eyes, but not for any reason anyone would ever guess. I now have something, albeit little and not my usual choice, for easing the pain inside me. Good. The pressure is so tight already I feel like I may burst.

If it were anyone else who came I in next but Gale, I would have told them off so that I could get down to business. But Gale and I hae a very emotional encounter that is over far to soon, and I feel as though I've lost my one and only friend in the world...

Save my pin.


End file.
